


A Joint Surrender

by lilyseyes



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-31
Updated: 2013-01-31
Packaged: 2017-11-27 17:37:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/664643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilyseyes/pseuds/lilyseyes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the <b>"two_broomsticks”></b>Fall-Fic-Athon<br/><b>#22. HP/SS. "Be my weekend lover, but don't be my friend.” Severus doesn't mind the sex, but he doesn't want a lover... or does he?</b></p>
            </blockquote>





	A Joint Surrender

**Author's Note:**

> **Beta:** irisgirl20000  
>  **Warnings:** Rimming, implied twincest, implied threesome

Severus Snape shifted the small, black bag from one hand to another as he strode towards the Apparation point at the end of Diagon Alley. The crowds were thin this early in the morning, the teashops and bakery the only thing open. The sun had yet to rise high enough to bathe the street in light. In the two years since the defeat of the Dark Lord, businesses and people had slowly returned to the shopping area in the heart of London. This day was the eve of his forty-third birthday, and the former Death Eater, acquitted murderer, and Potions master had allowed himself to be talked into almost two weeks in the company of the darling of the wizarding world, Harry Potter.

 

Standing in the shadows this January morning, Severus thought back to the shadows he had emerged from two years ago. 

He savored his acquittal on all charges by the Wizengamot, although the ensuing Ministry celebration was in reality held for the downfall of Lord Voldemort, with the Chosen One as guest of honor. It had surprised him at the time that Harry Potter had refused to participate in any celebratory events until his former teacher was tried and cleared of any charges. He had been further amazed that the evidence presented in his defense by Minerva McGonagall had been provided by the still-recovering defeater of his former master. They had come to a grudging mutual respect for each other in those bleak months after Albus had died, once Potter had been convinced of his true role in his mentor’s demise, but Severus had not expected the Gryffindor to expend extra effort on his behalf, given the mutual animosity in their past. 

It was at that celebration Severus had learned of the teenager’s leanings; he watched from his corner while two young men of dubious reputation attempted to drag an inebriated Potter into a darkened side room. Severus did not know why he stepped in, especially after rebuffing the boy’s attempt early in the evening to make conversation. Eventually his mind settled on the fact that he had more right to take Potter up on what he was clearly offering those two heathens. Apparating them both to the room he had taken at a small wizarding hotel, Severus had taken the young man to his bed, using his skills to make them both writhe and moan in ecstasy. Potter did not seemed surprised by the identity of the man whose arms he ended up in; in fact, a small smile played about his lips every time he breathed Severus’ name that night.

Severus left before dawn the next morning, only to find the brat dogging his heels, appearing at Spinner’s End later the same afternoon. Something new and hopeful wilted in the emerald eyes as Severus let him know in no uncertain terms that while the sex they had shared the night before was ‘bloody brilliant’ indeed, that was all there was to the encounter. A flash of strength hardened those eyes, inherited no doubt from the iron will of Lily Evans, before the young man responded by proposing Severus continue what he had started, and allow Potter to come around periodically for an evening of unadulterated sex. The Potions master fully intended to refuse, to curl his lip in obvious disdain at the idea that the slip of a boy could interest him further, when he heard his own voice announce it was an acceptable arrangement and lay down the rules of engagement, as it were.

Thus, the two became weekend lovers, but not friends. At first it was only one night a month, but over the course of the following year, the frequency increased to nearly every weekend. Severus kept the walls firmly in place, refusing to discuss any type of personal business, and Harry acquiesced to Severus’ wishes, dropping any topic of conversation that seemed out of bounds. Their routine rarely varied, with Harry arriving late Friday evening and leaving after lunch on Sunday afternoon. Despite knowing him intimately for over two years, Severus had no idea where Harry lived or with whom he worked. He knew the younger man completed Auror training at the head of his class, thanks to the _Daily Prophet_. Taking his speech to heart, the brat confined his conversation to Severus’ on-going research projects, whatever the weather was doing outside, and their plans for the day and a half they would be together. Harry helped without complaint if there was a potion that had to be minded, and tended to the cooking more often than not, as they never went out together. 

There were no agreements between them, and Severus had noted that Harry remained fodder for the gossip rags, which displayed a photos of Harry with a parade of witches and wizards on his arm. This was what Severus convinced himself he wanted, what was for the best, because someone as young and attractive as Potter would never stay with _him_ for long. The sex continued to be spectacular, despite their longevity, and if he yearned for anything more, Severus was able to suppress such weakness. Especially with the young man showing up every weekend, and the depth of the passion Severus saw in the emerald eyes at the height of their lovemaking. He lulled himself into a false sense of security, and grew content with his life.

Or he had been until almost six months ago, when his surrogate son, Draco Malfoy had married the other surviving member of the Golden Trio, Hermione Granger. Ron and Ginny Weasley had been killed in an ambush as they returned to Hogwarts after the Christmas holidays Harry’s seventh year, devastating the surviving pair. They had become as close as siblings, sparking rumors during the last part of the war that they were lovers. Harry had mentioned Granger once in passing, indicating that they were very close, but more like siblings than lovers. Draco’s choice had been somewhat of a shock to Severus, who had vowed to Narcissa at one point to protect his old friend's son. He had continued to do so after her death. 

When Draco asked him to stand with him during a ceremony that would mingle Muggle with wizard tradition, Severus, with a flush of warm pride, had agreed. He should not have been surprised to see Harry Potter preceding Granger down the aisle. The thing that stung was the fact that his lover, who not two hours before had climbed from his bed sated and smiling, looked at him with an expression of casual indifference, with no warmth in those spectacular eyes. His face remained frozen in its usual impassive mask, but the heart Severus had not believed capable of such feeling, ripped and bled. Long-denied emotions slammed into him as his eyes followed the handsome young man, resplendent in a formal Muggle tuxedo. How could he have let this happen, Severus had wondered as the ceremony went on around him. How had he opened himself up to such danger? How could he have surrendered to love?

Severus maintained his tight control until the wedding party was called to join the bride and groom on the dance floor. Severus ignored the questioning eyes as he gripped Potter’s black-clad arm, and dragged him on to the wooden surface. The younger man was remote and held himself stiffly, eyes averted, but had allowed Severus to lead him in a waltz. Several minutes passed, and Severus could feel his anger rising until Harry tripped. An arm slipped underneath the jacket as the Potions master reached instinctively to steady Harry, and the shield fell away from the startled emerald eyes. Something fierce burned deep in the verdant depths before the younger man could hide it, and it was enough to make hope blossom in Severus’ chest and quell his anger.

He half expected Harry to not show up the next weekend, but the young Auror arrived exactly on time, and did not refer to the wedding in any way. Their lovemaking that night held a desperate edge, and Severus had worshipped his lover’s body with lips, tongue, and fingers, trying to make the younger man understand what he could not say aloud by imparting exquisite pleasure. The established pattern did not change, however, and Severus, caught in a trap of his own making, began to despair that it ever would. 

Then Harry presented him with a perfect opportunity, one that would allow Severus to open a dialog on their relationship. Severus had mentioned more than once his frustrations over improving the Wolfsbane Potion and his inability to procure a rare tropical plant that might work to prevent the monthly transformations. The plant, a magically enhanced version of the rare _Hibiscus waimeae hannerae_ , grew only on one of the smallest unnamed islands in the Hawaiian chain, one owned by Hawaiian wizards of royal blood since the time of Merlin. Used only for magic rituals and protected because of the ability of the lush climate to grow any plant, it was nearly impossible to obtain permission to visit the island or harvest the flowers. The island, roughly the size of Hogwart’s grounds, sat twenty kilometers off the northeastern coast of Kauai, and was unplottable, protected by a millennium of spells and charms. 

Perhaps it was the frustration that Severus allowed to creep into his voice or the passion he brought to his research, but the next weekend, Harry announced he had arranged for the two of them to spend almost two weeks on the island in January, during a flowering period for the plant. Severus was stunned, completely taken aback by the sudden announcement, as they lay tangled in post-coital warmth. He agreed, his lips mouthing the words almost as if they were afraid his mind would find an excuse to say no. For once in his sad life, Severus went with his first impulse, not with the course of action that would keep him safest. 

This had led him to standing in the shadows of a cold alleyway, the elusive Harry Potter nowhere to be seen, uncharacteristically late.

sshpsshpsshpsshp

Harry Potter hurried out of the Leaky Cauldron, his heart pounding painfully in his chest. He was already several minutes late, and he was half-afraid that Severus, whose impatience was legendary, would not wait. A string of puka shells, their portkey to paradise, weighed down his pocket with hope and Harry patted it nervously. This felt like it might be his last chance to see whether he could interest his taciturn older lover in a real relationship. It had been four years since the then-teenager had discovered he harbored inappropriate feelings toward the snarky Potions master. They had been mentor and apprentice by then, in the aftermath of Albus Dumbledore’s death, but still close enough to a student/teacher relationship to make Harry feel uncomfortable. It had been those inappropriate fantasies that finally motivated him to Occlude his mind.

The joy Harry felt when Severus swooped in and rescued him the night of the Ministry gala had turned to ashes in the cold light of dawn. He awoke alone in the bed where he had been introduced to the exquisite pleasures of the flesh – not that Harry had told Severus that he had been a virgin. The talented tongue and incredible fingers had played his body, making the night a fantasy come true, and Harry had been unable to believe anyone who could make love to him with such passion would leave without a word in the pre-dawn hours. Storming after Severus, Harry recognized the set face and closed off expression as the older man had coldly denied anything other than taking what had been blatantly offered. With a flash of Slytherin insight, Harry counter-offered a no-strings sexual relationship, and was surprised when Severus immediately agreed.

Two years later, Harry knew he was irretrievably in love with Severus Snape. It took all his hard-learned skills of subterfuge and Occlumency to keep his feelings hidden, when his heart leapt at the mere sight of the tall, dark-haired man. Harry had no doubt that his lover still did not realize exactly how inexperienced he had been that first night, or that he had given Severus his virginity with a singing heart. Since then, Harry had done as he believed Severus wanted, going out with other men and women to gain the experience he lacked, but each attempt met with dismal failure. His head might understand what he was trying to accomplish, but Harry’s heart did not, nor did his body. Any sexual encounters Harry had were generally oral in nature and very one-sided, leaving him to joke that he had sustained an injury _there_ during the war. The charms and spells Harry used to protect his identity also helped to protect his reputation, even as the media continued to try to pair him with any eligible young person in wizarding London. 

His ‘wild spree’ had lasted only a few weeks; Harry awoke one morning, hung-over and groggy, to find himself sandwiched between two warm bodies. Fred and George Weasley had become his confidants, the only people beside Hermione who knew of his true feelings for their former Professor, and in turn, Harry was the only one who knew of the true relationship the twins shared. With so many losses among their family and friends, the young men had turned to each other for love and support, their intimacy reaching levels that most would be uncomfortable with. Harry felt the opposite, and allowed the two to tutor him in the fine art of lovemaking. Fred and George respected his feelings, never suggesting he engage in penetration, but schooled him in the art of fellatio and assorted uses of the tongue. And Harry’s tongue turned out to be incredibly agile. 

It was the twins' suggestion that Harry stop listening to what came out of the older wizard’s mouth and concentrate on what Severus said with his touch. The sarcastic tone and barbed comments ceased to hurt when Harry realized the stained fingers and talented tongue stroked him with a gentleness that bespoke of some warmer, deeper feeling. This belief had sustained him for almost two years in the emotional vacuum of their relationship, but after Hermione’s wedding, Harry decided the cost of trying to keep his distance emotionally was simply too high. When Severus mentioned the flower he needed, Harry listened closely. The Potions master’s difficulty in gaining access to the rare color-changing flower presented the young Auror with the opportunity he was waiting for.  
If he knew that Severus’ polite indifference about their ‘relationship’ was a fiction that actually masked a man afraid to allow himself to love, Harry would deal with that. He could handle proving to the reticent older man that he was sincere in what he felt and that he knew to his soul that he would never love anyone the way he loved Severus. For that, Harry would give him ten years and more. Bloody hell, the young man thought, he would spend the rest of his life proving that! What Harry could not live with was uncertainty. It was uncertainty that ate at him, and had for the past two years. It nagged at his consciousness, invaded his thoughts and his dreams, and it was slowly crushing Harry’s spirit. Hermione worried about him, and told him that it was unhealthy to love anyone so much, without a glimmer of hope that his love could ever be returned. 

The owner of the tiny Hawaiian island that Severus had referred to was David Kalakaua Pauahi, a member of the small group of Hawaiian royals who could trace their heritage back to King Kamehameha the Great, who also happened to be a wizard. Harry had rescued the elderly wizard from the grasp of several Death Eaters while still-hunting Horcruxes on the eve of the fall of Voldemort. The large Hawaiian had issued a standing invitation for Harry to spend time at the family-owned cottage on the uninhabited island, a place of unparalleled beauty and quiet. For the first time in his life, he had taken advantage of an offer made to Harry Potter, the Chosen One. In reality, he would do anything for Severus.

Harry pasted his public smile on his face as he made his way up the cobblestone alley. His boss had not been keen to give him any time off, but the life of an Auror had lost its appeal after years of training to kill the most evil Dark Lord of the century. Harry had immediately attempted to turn in his resignation, but had ended up accepting an indefinite leave of absence instead. Resolving the situation with Severus was more important than his job, especially considering the amount of Galleons sitting in his Gringotts vault. There were things he wanted to do with his life, things he would prefer to do with Severus, but that he would do regardless. 

Harry's eyes automatically searched the shadows as he arrived at the agreed-upon site, his heart lodged in his throat as he slowed to a stop. The heat of familiar eyes bored into him, and the sound of a footstep had him turning to face Severus. The young wizard ruthlessly repressed the brilliant smile that tried to erupt automatically, pain blossoming in his chest at the need.

“Potter.”

“Hello, Severus,” he answered quietly as he moved into the shadows. 

“Is everything ready?” The satin voice draped over his senses as the older man stepped closer, sending a tingle of awareness along his nervous system.

Drawing the necklace of shells out of his pocket, Harry stepped into the man’s personal space. Harry was not a short man, having attained a respectable six feet in height, but he was still several inches shorter than the Potions master, and he used that to an advantage as he pressed his shoulder into the shelter of Severus’ chest. The image of slender limbs entwined flashed through his mind, while an arm banded around his waist and a hand pressed over his. The Hawaiian word for love slipped from his lips and sent them swirling through a kaleidoscope of colors. 

They were finally deposited on the edge of a white sand beach, Severus holding Harry upright as their feet touched a swatch of manicured lawn. The shadow of a near island concealed half of the ball of flame that was the sun as it dropped into the horizon, where dark shimmering blue met the approaching twilight. He had anticipated a difference in time; a rapid calculation in his mind placed them twelve or thirteen hours in the rears of London. The evening was balmy and warm, with enough moisture in the air to instantly pull the crispness from the heavy fabric of his cloak and robes, and still Severus stood, his arms around Harry, savoring the sights and smells around him. The breeze that ruffled his hair carried on it many unfamiliar scents: heady floral fragrances, the tang of salt, and an earthy musk that bound them all together. The young Auror seemed content to allow him the rare pleasure of holding him without the normal subterfuge. 

It was with great reluctance that Harry straightened from the warmth of the arms surrounding him and turned to look around. The small expanse of lawn led to a large, low structure, built in a manner reminiscent of native dwellings Harry had studied in primary school many years before. Sturdy round timbers held up what appeared to be a roof covered in woven palm fronds, and formed several large, round rooms in a single dwelling. A sand walkway lined with dark red volcanic rock led to the door, and Harry followed it, stepping into the large open area. He immediately liked the openness of the great room, divided in purpose by the furniture groupings. An open archway led to a large bedroom, and beyond that was an elegant bath.

“I believe this will do,” Severus announced dryly at his elbow, eyes lingering on the lava rock pool that dominated the room.

It did not take long to unpack, arrange Severus’ enchanted collection materials, change, and settle into the great room. Harry found a light meal waiting for them in the corner designated as the kitchen. Both men now wore loose cotton pants and t-shirts, and Harry surreptitiously enjoyed the view afforded by the lack of the heavy robes Severus usually wore anytime he was out of bed. The silence that stretched between them as they both absorbed the new surroundings was not unusual, but tonight with the emotional turmoil roiling inside him, Harry found it uncomfortable. 

The fruity drink left with their meal seem to have some type of fermentation to it, he thought as he slid out of his seat and moved to kneel in front of Severus. The older man leaned back in the wide, fan-shaped woven chair, eyes following his every move as Harry allowed his fingers to indulge and stroke softly over the slender bare feet. There was definite amusement as well as arousal in the dark depths as he straightened and braced his hands against the chair.

“Is there something you want—”

Harry did not let Severus finish. He leaned in and captured the thin lips, teasing them with the tip of his tongue. With a soft, uncharacteristic sigh of surrender, Severus allowed him entry, and Harry devoured the moist warmth inside. Generally, Harry was content with letting the older wizard set the direction and the pace of their encounters, but not this time. Lost to the sensations coursing through him, consumed by the unrequited love he felt, Harry did not rein in his desire to pleasure his lover. Fingers caressed the shape of the elegantly sculpted head, combing through the waves the humidity was giving the usually lank hair before starting a downward. Skimming over the sinewy frame, Harry broke the kiss to divest Severus of his shirt before trailing his tongue along the pathway his fingers traced. Moving back to get a better angle, Harry plucked and suckled the flat, pale nipples, nuzzling the small patch of wiry hair. Encouraged by the grunts and moans, and the slender fingers that wove into his hair, Harry followed the dark trail of hair down the taut abdomen, pausing long enough to nip at the small navel, tongue-fucking it as his fingers finally brushed over the bulge of Severus’ erect penis. 

Emerald eyes sought permission, savoring the sight of the older man’s flushed cheeks and the desire burning in the obsidian eyes before slipping his fingers into the waistband of the pants. Transfiguring the rattan chair into a recliner, Harry then eased the cloth down the long, slender legs before tossing them aside. He pressed the strong thighs apart and up, draping Severus’ legs over the arms of the chair as he rubbed his cheek against the straining cock. Stopping long enough to swipe the flat of his tongue up the twitching erection, Harry returned his attention to his exploration. He nipped the inside of both thighs before gently sucking one testicle into this mouth, using his tongue to roll it around. He repeated the motion with the other ball before taking both into his mouth as his fingers pressed on the sensitive skin of the scrotum. The fingers in his hair tightened, but made no move to halt his progress, and Harry smiled as he angled the lean hips.

A strangled cry flew from Severus’ throat before he could stifle it as he felt Harry’s hands slip under him. His arse was lifted a fraction and that agile muscle swiped across his entrance. His cheeks were spread wider, and Harry buried his face between them, Severus’ balls brushing against the soft raven hair. It took all his considerable self-control not to press the head caught in his hands harder against him. Severus flung his head back and lost himself to the feelings radiating from where that tongue was trying to eat him whole. It had been many years since he had bottomed, and there was no one else Severus had even considered giving himself to, but as he felt an oiled fingertip swirl around the guardian muscle, he groaned and pushed against it. Harry took the compliance as implied consent, and Severus felt the young man renew his sensual assault, licking and stretching him until Severus thought he was going insane. A finger brushed his prostate, and Severus had to grab the base of his cock with a rough hand to stave off his orgasm.

With the other hand, he tugged Harry’s head up until their eyes met. He did not seem to have ability to articulate the words, but his young lover seemed to know, as the emerald eyes widened before Harry raised up to his knees. A trembling hand coated his cock as Severus continued to grip his own, using the other hand to lift his balls out of the way. It had been so many years since he had done this that it felt like he was a virgin again. Harry eased into him with incredible care, but still Severus felt the burn as he was slowly stretched. He felt his breath hitch at the flare of pain, and Harry froze. When he leaned closer to kiss him slowly, Severus took control of it, devouring the sweetness as he arched up. The feeling of Harry fully seated, panting with the effort to allow him time to adjust, was a most unbelievably erotic experience for him. Severus wrapped his legs around the lean hips and arched up. 

“Now, Harry, hard and fast,” he panted.

The angle was perfect, that blunt head pounding into his prostate, sending wave after wave of sensual sparks along his nerve synapses, and all he could do was hold on as Harry took him higher and higher. The crest took him by surprise, slamming into him with incredible pleasure, and all without a touch to his own straining cock. The heat of Harry’s release felt like it brought on another orgasm, despite the impossibility of that. 

Severus did not remember how they moved to the bed.

sshpsshpsshpsshp

It took almost two days to acclimate to the change in time and climate, and they used that time to explore the small island. The dwelling they inhabited sat on a small portion of flat land; the island itself was about the size of two Quidditch fields, and resembled nothing more that the top of a small volcanic mountain. It sloped upwards from the back of a small, tree-covered area in the back of the house to a ridge about 450 meters above the ocean. At the top, there was a small canyon that cut into the side, where the tiny island caught the majority of its rain and it funneled down into a large stream that meandered its way to the sea. The remaining edges of the ridge fell sharply in steep cliffs of volcanic rock, with small plants and bushes clinging stubbornly to the sides.

It was in the small canyon, barely fifteen meters across, that the rare plant Severus sought grew. The large flowers were the magical cousins to the hibiscus plant. They began the day as a deep pink color, slowing paling as the day progressed, bleaching to white by sunset. The Potions master needed several blossoms, picked at various stages of the color-changing phase, which necessitated a great deal of precise timing and patience, but Harry did not complain as he did everything that he could to harvest the flowers and prepare them. Each was placed in one of several enchanted boxes, which were portkeyed each evening to Severus’ private lab. Harry had secured permission for Severus to take one immature plant home to attempt to cultivate in his lab. 

Their days were filled with hiking and harvesting, lunch were picnics on the top of the canyon rim, and their nights filled with each other. They made love in the wet sand with water lapping at their feel, but decided the lava pool in the bathroom was as erotic and less, well, sandy. Harry could not get enough of his lover, and the tropical atmosphere brought out a gentler edge to the older man as well, one that allowed Severus to lay a hand on his shoulder when they spoke or brush against him as they walked. Harry loved this new feeling of, but he could not seem to work up the courage to tell Severus of his true feelings, afraid to he would ruin the relaxed atmosphere. So he decided to bide his time, and the present.

The well-stocked kitchen continued to provide them with everything they needed, and Harry had to smile every time he walked by the ‘gifting table’ near the archway that led off the great room. Each night before he went to bed, Harry left several of the gifts he had brought with him for the Menehunes, the Hawaiian little people. David Pauahi had explained the magical creatures who came out in the night to either help or create mischief. They who had originated on the nearby island of Kauai, and they had agreed to take care of those of royal linage. Like house-elves, the creatures had their own magic and abilities, in addition to being master craftsmen. The Menehunes specialized in shooting magical arrows into those deemed hardhearted, so that they would be able to love, the Hawaiian wizard had informed him once, after a spirited discussion of Harry’s love life during one of their monthly dinners. Keeping the conversation in mind, Harry had left a bottle of Ogden’s, as well as providing a different bar of Honeydukes chocolate and a bunch of the little people’s favorite food, bananas, each night.

It took four days of searching before they found an immature _Hibiscus waimeae hannerae_ that fit the parameters that David had given him. It sat just over the edge of an outcropping of lava rock, nestled in a lump of rich volcanic soil. Harry tamped down his excitement and studied the little hibiscus bush from every angle, highlighted as it was by the setting sun. It was not a difficult climb down, and aside from the loose soil and rock on the ledge surrounding it, it would not be a problem climbing back up. The cliff face was steep and the drop-off below was sheer, and Severus insisted on a tether spell between them.

Leaving Severus to prepare the enchanted box that would whisk the little pant back to London, Harry climbed gingerly over the rock edge. The hand and toeholds were plentiful, and he scampered down the face to his objective, two meters below the rim. A wandless spell extracted the root-ball and surrounding earth, and Harry moved to the side of the small ledge as Severus levitated the small pant up to its container. It was with a light heart that Harry started the journey back up the rocky face. The dying sun was warm on his back as he carefully picked his way up. Harry’s head was level with the rim when the clump of rock he was pulling himself up on gave way, and he yelled as he made a grab for the edge, swinging with surprising speed as he pivoted on one toehold and one handhold. He never saw the small rock outcropping that his head slammed into. His last memory was of Severus’ slender, potion-stained fingers grasping his wrist firmly, saving him from falling.

sshpsshpsshpsshp

Severus paced the length of the bedroom, a single torch throwing light over his lover’s pale face. A large bruise discolored Harry’s right temple, but at least he had been able to heal the jagged gash there. He berated himself again for not bringing a bruise paste as he pivoted and headed into the kitchen to rinse the flannel he had been using to wipe Harry’s face. His stomach jolted as the scene at the rim of the canyon replayed in his mind’s eye. He had only just grabbed Harry's wrist in time, and it had taken all his panicked strength to keep him from falling. When he calmed, Severus had levitated the unconscious, bloody man over the edge and carried him home. The precious hibiscus plant sat forgot in its enchanted box as his only thoughts were for the man he loved.

Although Harry’s breathing remained steady and his heart functioned at its normal level, he had not awoken since the accident. As midnight approached, Severus' panic began to overtake the edges of his tight control. He knew head injuries could be very tricky, and Harry could wake up anytime or never. What Severus needed was the bruise paste and a general healing potion, but he had not thought to bring either with him. He had managed to get Harry to swallow a general analgesic potion and some water, so at this point all he could do was wait.

Severus rinsed the cloth, taking the time only to drink a bit of the marvelous juice that was left for them each night before he moved to return to the bedroom. He stopped. There, on what Harry called the gifting table, sat a small amber container and a crystal vial. When the young Auror had told him the legend of the Menehunes and their nightly gifts, Severus had listened indulgently but with little interest. Cautiously, Severus picked up the container and uncorked it, easily recognizing it as bruise paste. The vial held the healing potion Harry needed. Severus closed his eyes tightly, offering his silent thanks to the Hawaiian elves and any deity that watched over them, assuring them they need not prepare an arrow for him.

It was easy to coax the unconscious man to take the potion, a slightly sweeter variation of the one Severus himself made a tidy profit on brewing. He held Harry against his chest, fingers carding through the hair on the uninjured side of his head, continuing his silent one-sided conversation with whoever might be listening as he resolved to love Harry fully, promised to take care of his every need, to love him until his dying day. It was several hours before the young man finally began to stir, tossing and muttering in his sleep as he dreamed. Severus leaned down, brushing the sweaty hair off Harry’s forehead, his exhaustion supplanted by hope. The emerald eyes fluttered open, and Severus leaned over to see that they were still clouded and unfocused.

“Severus!” A hand reached out for him, fisting in the front of the lightweight shirt the Potions master wore. “Severus, I love you!”

Severus’ heart leapt into his throat, his relief and joy warring with the knowledge that Harry was only half-conscious and could not realize what he was saying. The part of him that so wanted the statement to be true shied away from the hurt it knew had to follow. He gently untangled himself and busied himself by checking Harry with his wand, not able to meet the eyes that followed his every move. Silently, he helped his lover to the loo and back, knowing he had to get out of this room, this house, to lick his wounds before he could deal with the younger man. Setting another vial of pain-relieving potion on the bedside table, well within Harry’s reach, Severus urged him to sleep. He waved down the torch and paused in the doorway on his way out.

“We will speak when you feel better, Potter. That way no one will be embarrassed.”

The pounding in Harry’s head could not rival the pain of his heart ripping apart as Severus quietly closed the door. It would appear that he had been living in a fantasy world; despite the closeness the two men had shared, Severus did not return his feelings. The Potions master’s rejection had been immediate and quite firm, Harry thought, blinking his eyes furiously against the tears that filled them. He left the potion vial where it sat, needing the throbbing at his temple to remind the rest of his body that he was still alive, as numbness invaded his limbs. Silently, Harry eased out of bed and found his wand. With a few flicks, the sheets were clean and the bed remade, his clothing packed and bag shrunk. 

Silent tears streamed down Harry's face as he pulled on a shirt and shorts. He had to get out before Severus came back, as Harry was certain he would be diligent in his role as a caregiver. Harry also knew he was in no condition to deal rationally with the Potions master – he would either beg the man to love him or just break down and hurl angry, hurtful words that he did not mean. Perhaps if he just disappeared with the emergency portkey all Aurors carried, Severus would put it down to his injury… 

Harry took a deep breath, wincing as it caught in his chest. He removed the necklace of puka shells from a drawer and set them on the table with a scrape of parchment containing the activation word, _aloha_.

"Aloha, my Severus,” he whispered into the darkness.

A thin line of indigo differentiated the sky from the inky blackness of the sea as Harry stumbled to the far edge of the grass where it bordered the beach. Thankful for the silence that surrounded him, he sank into the warm sand and drew his knees to his chest. Perhaps he was as unlovable as Ginny had accused him of being the autumn of his seventh year. Her anger at being excluded from the Horcrux search, coupled with his awaking sexuality, had had him avoiding her, and Ginny had not taken it well. After the attack that had taken Ginny and Ron, Harry had distanced himself from everyone, knowing in his wretchedly, lonely world that at least no one else would be a target. Hermione had ended up fighting for his friendship, and Severus, steady and stable in his sardonic way, had just become too dear to completely abandon.

In the end, it appeared that Ginny had been right all along: there was something wrong with him. Harry knew that he would never again love anyone the way he loved Severus – knew that he would willingly give his life for the older man – but he could not compartmentalize what he was feeling. He could not continue to see the older man every weekend if that meant he had to lock his love away. Severus would not abide someone he thought was mooning over him, and Harry did not think he could withstand the pain of being so close without the freedom to express his love. He would rather save both of them the heartache, and break it off now, cleanly.

Pain ripped through his chest once again, and all Harry wanted to do was throw his head back and howl at the injustice of his life. Would his parents have loved him if they had lived or would he have been a disappointment to them, as well? Sirius would have been disappointed, would have hated him if he had lived long enough to figure out his godson had fallen in love with his most hated enemy. An abnormal freak was what his uncle called him; perhaps the despicable man had been right after all. He had done everything they wanted him to, damn it! He had destroyed all the Horcruxes, fulfilled the damn prophecy and killed Lord Voldemort with a spell so dark Harry still had nightmares about it! Had it been asking too much to be able to have a little happiness? 

_You had two years, you arrogant arse_ , a small voice taunted him from the back of his mind. 

Harry looked out to see the band of light thickening at the horizon, the water as dark and turbulent as the feeling swirling in his chest. He would simply drop from sight. Hermione would understand; he need not worry about her now that she had Malfoy, after all. Draco would take care of her and would surely be happy that his godfather was rid of Harry, if he even knew about Harry. As soon as that thought occurred to him, Harry knew the blond did not know. He was nothing more than Severus’ _dirty little secret_. 

The sobs that he finally surrendered to wracked his body, threatening to consume him as his whole frame shook from their force. Harry never heard the quiet footsteps that came toward him or felt Severus lower himself to the sand beside him. Strong arms cradled him and rocked him side to side, the silky voice whispering endearments and a promise of a future. Harry cried on, the anguish welling in him too powerful to be halted, cried until his head felt cleaved in two and his chest was so constricted he couldn‘t draw a breath. The soft voice washed over him like a healing potion that finally got through, repeating the same words over and over.

“I love you, Harry. I love you, Harry.”

Harry stiffened, but neither the rocking nor the voice stopped. As his tears abated, his body relaxed and he slowly sagged into the protective embrace. The litany of words changed, and Harry listened as he struggled to bring his emotions under control. 

“I cannot tell you how sorry I am, Harry. I did not think you were cognizant of what you were saying, and feared you would retrace your statement. I have grown to love you too much to hear those words and not wish them to be real. I did not stop to contemplate your reaction.”

The words trailed off as Harry was shifted until the onyx eyes met his, the newly risen sun illuminating them, bathing them in golden light.

“I would never reject something as precious as the gift of your love, Harry. I might question your mental capacity and your visual abilities, but I would never – will never – reject you.” 

Severus leaned down to gently kiss Harry. The younger man’s eyes were red-rimmed, the remnants of blood still caked in the rumpled hair near the fading bruise, but to Severus he had never looked more gorgeous. His own heart had frozen when he had returned to check on Harry and found him gone. The reality of what had happened was immediately apparent at the absence of Harry’s belongings, and the blow had almost sent him to his knees. The Potions master had not needed the visual evidence, truly, as the room had been cold and empty without the younger man’s vibrant presence.

Severus lifted a hand to cup Harry’s cheek. “Only recently did I discover the true nature of my feelings, or more likely, only recently that my eyes were opened enough to admit them.” The dark eyes searched the verdant depths. “I am not a nice man, Harry. I am too old, too sarcastic, and too ill-tempered to change, but I believe that we can build something together… if you are willing to take a chance?”

Those eyes took on an intensity that Severus had rarely seen since in anyone other that Albus Dumbledore, and he could have sworn he felt the brush of Legilimency. Concentrating, he opened his mind, forgetting to breathe as the brush came again.

“I love you beyond reason, Severus, but I do not think I can survive if you decide to change your mind.”

“I can only tell you that I will never intentionally hurt you, Harry, but you in turn must allow yourself to be loved.”

The fingers held his chin firmly as Harry tried to pull away, to look anywhere but those knowing eyes. “For some reason, you do not seem to believe you are worthy of the same level of love that you are freely offering me. It cannot be anything other than equal between us.”

Harry narrowed his eyes. “And will we have to keep this a secret as well, Severus?”

A genuine smile graced the thin lips, and they lowered until Harry could feel the breath of every word before he heard it. Harry moved fractionally, outlining the bow of the lower lip even as Severus spoke.

“Actually, I think that we should ask Mrs. Granger-Malfoy to make the arrangements for our bonding, beloved, as she would have all the recent contacts.”

Harry sighed into Severus’ mouth as he acquiesced to the suggestion non-verbally. Relief and hope warred for dominance in his mind. The hope won, and Harry poured all the love he felt into the kiss, wiggling around until he had pressed Severus back into the sand.

“You have sustained a head injury, and will be going back to bed immediately,” Severus decreed, breathless. He rolled them over and stood up, reaching down to draw Harry to his feet. 

“You might need to go with me, Severus.” Harry stumbled as they reached the grass, the turmoil of the past hour and the throbbing in his head catching up with him, but Severus caught him with a steady hand. “Make sure I stay there.”

Severus caught him close as they stepped into the great room. “Actually, I thought we might practice for the honeymoon.” 

And he sealed his promise with a searing kiss as they surrendered to each other.


End file.
